Road to Redemption
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: Angel is a lot softer than what most people give him credit for. Not that it matters. Angel has his reputation to uphold after all.


All was well within the Hazbin Hotel. Everything was in good shape, a series of patrons had all hesitantly decided to give a chance to the ridiculous idea of a rehabilitation service, and everyone was relatively at peace. As Angel lounged within the soft cushions on one of the couches in the lobby, he thought that the day had gone surprisingly well. Today, he had managed to convince Charlie that he was pretty much been clean for the past several weeks and that he was "well behaved". In actuality, Angel had decided to skip out on helping his best bud Cherri Bomb, but that was to be expected. A guy had certain things to do that didn't have to include his best buds. Anyway, he was minding his own business when he heard something that promised an early doom.

It was Vaggie and she did not look well.

Normally, Angel would have stayed the hell away from her, but he felt a little generous that day.

After all, the road to redemption was paved by absolute boredom and drudgery if he was being honest.

The spider demon huffed a breath and conjured the best of his confidence.

"Hey, toots!" Angel called out. The spider demon waved Vaggie over, a gesture that had the demoness glaring at him, but had her trotting forward nonetheless. As she approached, Angel noticed that the moth demoness looked distinctly uncomfortable at his greeting. Odd that. Usually, she was frothing at the mouth with barely suppressed rage at his sexist terms that existed back in the forties. "You're not looking too good, what's up with that?"

Vaggie, for once, looked shocked and it was easy to see why.

Angel...Angel actually sounded concerned.

Immediately, Angel felt his face heat up in slight mortification. Yes, he had planned on asking what was wrong, but he hadn't expected on sounding so… caring about Vaggie. Damn it! He wasn't supposed to do that. Didn't he have a reputation to uphold?

Fortunately for Angel, his internal debate went unnoticed as Vaggie slumped into the cushioned seat next to him. Her brow was furrowed and both of her arms were crossed over her chest. Uncertain in the face of imminent danger, Angel thought about abandoning ship, but something told him to stay put. What that little voice inside him was, he had no idea, but it was gnawing at him to inquire about her welfare.

"You—"

Vaggie shook her head violently, the tresses of her hair swinging to and fro. Immediately, Angel shut up as he leaned forward on one pair of his arms so that he could hear her better.

"Charlie and Alastor are at it." Her teeth bared itself in a bitter parody of a smile. "Again."

Angel shrunk back into the cushions, his interest in the situation mounting just a little bit. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific, babe. What? They cookin' a big meal today? Or are they planning on renovating the building with the power of song and dance?"

At the second suggestion, Vaggie seemed to hunch down even further into her seat. Even her hair, much like a cat, seemed to puff up and make her seem more formidable in the face of enemies. Christ, Angel thought, he was joking!

"Yeah," Vaggie nodded. "The both of them are busy singing about baking cakes. Or something." She pulled at her hair in a well practiced motion to relieve her stress before turning to Angel with a glare. The next few words that she spoke had Angel fighting down a grin. "This is the third time this week."

"Isn't it Tuesday?" He couldn't help but prod. He thought about the dynamic duo and their penchant for theatrics and couldn't help the grin that upturned the corners of his lips. Those two were unbelievably corney and too enthused about working together. "Geeze, that's gotta be a new record for them or something."

When Vaggie offered no other comment, Angel poked her side. At that touch, Vaggie slapped the offending appendage away, the fire in her eyes seemingly growing in intensity. While Angel had expected Vaggie's reaction to be something fiery and decidedly negative, he couldn't fathom why she was so angry. Even at Angel's most annoying and inconsiderate, Vaggie had chosen verbal reprimands over threats of corporal punishment. The sudden change in her behavior had Angel changing his tune.

"For real, though—" The spider demon smiled encouragingly at her. "—are you all right? You look like you're about to blow a gasket."

Vaggie unsurprisingly said nothing. Much to his dismay, the demoness seemed to hunch even further into the cushions. It was as if she was trying to disappear into her surroundings to avoid answering his questions.

That was too bad for her.

Angel may not have been the most attentive or considerate of people, but he was more than well acquainted with the moth demoness. It was still a short while since they had known each other, but Angel had grown… well, fond wasn't exactly the word he was looking for, but their relationship had been warming steadily the longer they had known each other. Angel may not have Vaggie's best interests at heart, but he did know her well enough to stop acting acting like a depraved asshole.

So, with all of the candor that he could muster, he said, in no uncertain terms, "You're jealous of Alastor, aren't ya?" As Vaggie jumped up to her feet, fire practically bursting out of her eyes, Angel merely shrugged his shoulders. Not only did it have the effect that he could care less, but it also had the benefit of shutting Vaggie down. "Relax, babe. I'm not gonna air your dirty laundry to the rest of the world."

"I am not—"

Bored with her attempt to shake off his detective work, Angel used two of his hands to hold her in place while a third one gently bopped her on the nose. The action rendered Vaggie into nothing more than a restrained moth demoness with a penchant for growling. If it were any other situation, Angel might have laughed and teased the poor woman for getting trapped in his arms, but now was not the time for it.

Angel bopped her on the nose for good measure. "Listen, honey, you're not fooling anyone. You're jealous. Get over it."

What followed was a barrage of Spanish insults that Angel sort of understood (he was an Italian speaker after all and those two languages were quite similar at times) and Vaggie trying to get away from Angel's entrapment. Fortunately for the spider demon, he had decades of experience fighting against opponents stronger than him while Vaggie barely had five years.

The fight was so one-sided, Angel had to wonder if Vaggie was even trying.

"So what if I am?" Frustrated that she had been completely rendered useless against Angel, Vaggie merely kept herself ramrod straight in his tight grasp. "Why do you even care?"

At that, Angel's mind froze as he scrambled around for a suitable answer. The truth was that Angel didn't really have a motive. When Vaggie had first traipsed into the lobby, Angel had immediately noticed that she looked way too brokenhearted and downtrodden.

A memory, unbidden, rose from the depths of his subconscious. Angel tried to push the memory down, but he distinctly remembered a feminine voice telling him to treat all women with respect and to always make them happy. Was it his mother? Was it his sister? Angel didn't know. All he could surmise from his blast to the past was that he was ingrained with the Italian instinct to comfort women whenever possible.

It was an instinct that kept him close to his sister, had him befriending Cherri Bomb, and gradually acquiescing to the hotel's dumb rules.

Now, that stupid instinct was having him try to comfort a lady who would probably hack his balls off if she ever escaped dfrom his hold.

"It's not that I care," he carefully began. "It's just that… I don't know…" Words! What were words? What could he say that would honor his mother and sister _and_ keep his reputation from going down the toilet? When he could not find a good answer to his question, the spider demon finally belted out the truth. "You look sad!"

If Vaggie had consented to standing still in his arms, she was downright motionless at that comment. She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape, before she came to a startling revelation.

"You… you don't like it when women are sad." The contemplative looked in her eyes suddenly became consumed with hellfire. "Why the hell are you so sexist you—"

"Oh, come off it!" Angel groaned miserably. With another hand, he placed a hand over her mouth to shut her up. "Why is it that whenever I I act nice, you start accusing me of being something I'm obviously not?"

Vaggiei raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay. I'm just a bit sexist and racist and whatever 'ist' there is, but I'm seriously trying to be nice here." Vaggie still looked a little unconvinced. "And before you say anything, yes, you are definitely jealous. Now get over it."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Your attempt at being nice is sorely lacking."

Angel made as if to strangle her with his last pair of arms, but thought better of it. Instead, with the seriousness of a man heading to deathrow, he asked, "Where are they?"

Vaggie cocked her head to the side in confusion.

Ohh for the love of—!

"Charlie and Alastor," he clarified. "Where are they doing their next musical number?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Answer the question and I might tell you."

When Vaggie revealed that the dynamic duo was still in the kitchen, Angel immediately grabbed hold of one of her hands and towed her into that area. Much to his relief, Vaggie kept silent and allowed the older demon to drag her around like a ragdoll.

The kitchen, which is quite different from the rest of Hell, was usually a pristine area of white fluorescence, steel cabinets and appliances, and silent like a tombstone. However, now that Charlie and Alastor were occupying that space, the kitchen had practically transformed into a dance hall. The pair were busy dancing to a jaunty tune and danced in a style that was already outdated during Angel's era. So engrossed in their singing about… Southern cooking? The pair didn't notice that Angel and Vaggiie were busy gawking at them.

"Do they ever get tired?"

Vaggie shook her head miserably. "If left unattended, Charlie could very well end up singing for hours."

"Dancing too?"

She nodded with exasperated resignation. "Especially dancing."

For a moment, the pair simply watched Alastor and Charlie dance to their heart's content. As much as Angel hated to admit it, the pair looked so natural together. Charlie was enthusiastic and graceful in her steps while Alastor practically bounced around having the time of his life. In fact, their shared energy was practically infectious. Without even thinking about it, Angel found himself tapping his foot to the rhythm. In the end, it was only Vaggie who looked totally out of place as she stared down the offensive display of happiness.

"Come on," Angel held out both pairs of his arms, beckoning her to join the fun. "You can't dance while pouting."

Vaggie snapped out of her sulking by levelling the spider demon with a glare.

"I am not—" Vaggie's words died in her throat as Angel bowed deeply in front of her. "What are you—?"

Angel smirked. "All the good partners have been taken, you're obviously feeling lonely, and I need to work out. Whaddaya say, toots?" He eyed her coquettishly, confidence growing as Vaggie seemed to consider the offer.

With a sigh, Vaggie nodded.

Immediately, Angel swept her into his arms. He was careful to allow Vaggie some time to adjust to the dance. It didn't take long for her to pick up the pace as she matched his steps and followed his lead.

It had been so long since he had danced with a woman who was not of his blood. There were memories of his brother trying to teach him how to woo women, to lead them out onto the dance floor effortlessly. Back then, Angel had followed like any stereotypical Italian would—always flirting, always coy with the ladies. But he had felt nothing towards the opposite sex. It wasn't until Angel had started experimenting with boys… Well, that was another story entirely.

As Angel lived through his memories as a human, he was dimly aware that his lovely dance partner had minutely relaxed in his hold. In fact, as he glanced down, he could see that Vaggie's countenance wasn't so scrunched up in a frown. Perhaps if he looked a little closer, he could see a little smile…

Angel couldn't help but tease her a little. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Careful, Angel," Vaggie warned. "I might accidentally step on your feet."

He rolled his eyes. "At least tell me if you feel better."

Vaggie chewed the inside of her cheek before hesitantly nodding. "Although, I have to ask, why are you doing this?" There was a trace of suspicion in her voice.

Angel shrugged. Once upon a time, before he realized that he liked men a whole lot more than women, he was quite the charmer. Plus, his mother would skin him alive if he let a poor dame struggle with her tears alone. Angel could have said all that, but he refrained.

"Think of this as a little something on the road to redemption."


End file.
